


five times zuko isn’t crowned fire lord

by Sosostris



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Found Family, I dream of life without a monarchy, Iroh is dead sorry about that, Monarchy, The unrest will lead to anarchy, When I fight I make the other side panicky, ends up hilarious, starts off gloomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sosostris/pseuds/Sosostris
Summary: …and one time he is. Please heed the tags!
Relationships: Azula/Mai (Avatar), Jin/Zuko (Avatar), On Ji/Democracy
Comments: 17
Kudos: 70





	five times zuko isn’t crowned fire lord

**Author's Note:**

> My republican leanings are strong here, I’m afraid.
> 
> Credit goes to Terry Pratchett for #5, Monty Python for #4.
> 
> I cannot remember where I got the idea for #3 from, but it is on Tumblr; so please identify yourself in the comments, if you ever see this!

**Iroh**

Still reeking of the incense from the coronation ceremony, Iroh counts as he climbs each step to the gilded seat, his cloak heavy, the crown heavy. His nephew was too good of a man, resigning every title he had ever held as soon as he regained consciousness; so it falls on Iroh, a sinner, to be king.

 _Ah, Lu Ten, my son_ , he thinks, his heart sinking like lead inside him. _So much blood was spilled to bring us to this point, and yours not least among the children of a once-great nation._

_I hope that I will be a better king than I was a prince._

To his credit, Iroh leaves in place a government solid enough for the quiet, sober scion of a cadet branch to smoothly take over some years later.

He is the first Fire Lord not to be interred in the royal mausoleum since it was built. In a solemn pilgrimage, Zuko and Azula carry his urn all the way from the caldera to Ba Sing Se, where he is buried on a shaded hillside as a troupe of white-clad seniors looks on.

* * *

**Katara**

Exhausted, running on adrenaline and focused entirely on healing her friend from the nasty lightning bolt, Katara doesn’t notice how deeply servants and courtiers bow at her instructions.

It’s only when she leaves Zuko’s sickroom at an all-too-late hour and a Fire Sage—who must have been waiting outside the door for _hours_ —nervously prostrates himself in a full kowtow that she realises something is up.

“What in all the hells is going on?” Katara demands, and if it comes across more _imperious_ than _exasperated_ , that really was not her intention at all.

To which the hapless sage— _sworn to guard you with my life, at least for the remainder of this shift_ , he explains—can only stammer, “Well, you _did_ … win the Agni Kai…”

Unfortunately, no constitutional judges can be found who are willing to weigh in on Azula’s claim to the throne—which is how Katara finds herself an unwitting Queen of the Dual-Monarchy, First of Her Name, despite her protestations that the Southern Water Tribe _doesn’t even have a monarchy_.

* * *

**Azula**

The last Azula heard of her misbegotten brother—and she says that _fondly_ , her therapist would be glad to know—he was happily running Uncle’s tea shop as, of all things, _night manager_.

Good for him and his cabbage-hawking wife, she supposes.

“That’s not a nice way to refer to Jin,” Mai says reproachfully. “Her family’s grocery store is now a thriving franchise. You really can’t go wrong with a business degree from Ba Sing Se University.”

“Yes, yes.” Slouched in the painfully uncomfortable throne, Azula sighs as dramatically as she can. “All’s well that ends well for all of us, even your rabbit-hen of a mother.”

“Oh, _Michi_.” Mai sounds dismissive. “I did end up marrying the Fire Lord, just as she wanted, didn’t I.” She absently presses a kiss to Azula’s cheek, and adds, “Mother expects us for dinner next week.”

* * *

**On Ji**

“Strange dragons living in ruins is no basis for a system of government,” the revolutionary student On Ji declares. “Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some—”

From the crowd in the street, a delighted voice cuts her off shrilly.

“I completely agree!” the Avatar chirps, leaping into the air to be better seen. “The Air Nomads had a saying: No kings, no masters! I mean, we called our teachers masters, but that was earned!”

At that, general cheer goes up. _Look, the Avatar is on our side_ , someone says brightly.

 _Who died and made him Avatar anyway?_ a more steadfast thinker retorts, before remembering that the earthly manifestation of the World Spirit can level entire cities in a trance.

As one surging mass, the people press on through the streets.

By the time they reach the palace, the former prince Zuko has already arranged stacks of relevant paperwork, carefully filed, for public handover to their duly elected representative.

* * *

**Kiyi**

Given that Ozai vacated the position of Fire Lord once when he became Phoenix King and again when he, _um, we don’t talk about the palace dungeons, okay, that’s all in the past_ —

Given recent political developments, it doesn’t look like the interregnum will be over any time soon.

Twenty years after Sozin’s Comet returns, a young woman named Kiyi arrives in the capital with an heirloom sword, a crown-shaped birthmark and a burning desire to join the city watch.

She’s a natural leader with no designs beyond reforming the station’s cafeteria menu, which leaves the more astute members of the city council inwardly very relieved.

* * *

**Zuko**

There has never been an imperial portrait like this, the court painter wants to protest.

The Fire Lord and his noble-born consort—certainly only natural.

His uncle and his sister—they’re his only remaining blood relatives, so that’s nice and magnanimous.

And you can’t avoid the Avatar, of course. You really can’t.

But the Water Tribe siblings, tall in their rich blue pelts? Two stout Earth Kingdom girls, one of them dressed in the full regalia of an insurgent warrior and the other dressed as a _costumed wrestler_?

And, gods preserve us, _a sky bison and a lemur_ crowding into the courtyard and ready to pose.

“There has never been an imperial portrait like this,” the court painter begins to complain.

Zuko impales the man with his one good eye.

“You said ‘family,’” he says flatly, in tones that brook no further objection. “Well, here’s mine.”


End file.
